


And he sobbed.

by peacheyrings



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Gen, He's real fuckin sad, Mentioned Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), My First AO3 Post, Sad Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, im just. very bad at summarys., its better than the summary i swear, no beta we die like wilbur soot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29791290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacheyrings/pseuds/peacheyrings
Summary: /Spoilers for March 1st stream/Techno had long hair once. It fell down to his lower back.He had earrings once too.He didn't anymore.He never would.
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Comments: 3
Kudos: 123





	And he sobbed.

**Author's Note:**

> i saw the stream clip and sprinted to my fucking notes app.
> 
> i haven't posted anything else and also wrote this in like. an hour. go easy on me please thanks :grin: :thumbs_up:

Techno had long hair once. 

It fell down to his lower back. 

Before he'd been taken in by Phil (and Wilbur, though he didn't really have a choice considering he, like Techno, was twelve), he had never bothered cutting it. He had no need to. 

Not when he was much more worried with the food he was going to scavenge, and if the little hideout he'd made in an alley would still be wet from the morning rain when he got back. 

When he'd been taken in, Phil helped him wash it. It had been well past his shoulders at that point, but was surprisingly untangled and unmatted. Wilbur loved it. 

When they'd all sit in the living room, doing their own thing, Wilbur would sit there and just run his fingers through it, careful of the slightly sensitive piglin ears, or the wound on the back of his skull that hadn't quite healed yet and was still raw skin. 

He'd gone into town one day, and came back beaming, fingers twitching, and had pounced on Techno's hair the moment they'd all had free time. 

For a very early attempt (maybe second or third), by a thirteen year old, it was a nice braid. A bit loose, and a tad uneven, but it was a good way to keep it out of his face. 

Techno had left for a competition once and come back with hair that barely fell past his ears. 

Wilbur was devastated. 

So Techno had grown it back out. 

By the time his hair was back to it's length, he was fifteen, and Tommy had joined their family. 

The kid had holed himself away in their attic, only being caught when he'd somehow managed to step on the weakest spot, and fell through the ceiling whilst the three were eating dinner. 

After lot's of screaming, a couple stab wounds (courtesy of Techno and Tommy, on each other respectfully), and some strained, tense nights, Tommy had taken his rightful place as the youngest brother. 

If Tommy hadn't had a distinct lack of animal features, Techno would've been sure the kid was a raccoon in more than just personality. 

What, with the holing himself in their attic for what was apparently _weeks_ , the hoarding of any food or material he could get his hands on, the stealing just for the sake of it, and the undivided attention he had on any shiny object, be it freshly cleaned metal, glass, or gems. Especially gems. 

The kid's eyes had never met his, instead being locked on the jewelry he and Phil wore. 

He knew Phil wore it for a real reason, though he wasn't sure what. Him on the other hand? He kinda got annoyed with it. 

Trying to move fast and smoothly while chains tugged on his ears got irritating, until at one point, he just hadn't put it on. 

His emerald from Phil had been placed into the hilt of his sword long ago, and he felt no real need to wear any of the rest of it, so he hadn't. He'd left it on his nightstand, and went about the rest of his day. 

Tommy didn't take it well. 

It wasn't that he screamed, or got distressed, or even just asked why he wasn't wearing it. Instead, he just felt... off. 

He'd gotten quiet, didn't talk as much around the food he'd shoved in his mouth at breakfast, struggled to meet Techno's eyes during conversation, even without the jewelry, looked around frantically for anything else to focus on. 

And maybe Techno got a little annoyed with the jewelry, but Tommy loved it, so he kept them in the next day. 

And the next day. 

And he didn't take them off. 

But then he left. 

Hypixel was a city many flocked to, whether it be for it's rich culture of games, it's claimable land to build on, or it's arenas and competitions. 

Techno wasn't unlike the many. 

As peaceful as the home he shared with Tommy, Wilbur, and Phil was, he was a piglin hybrid, and everyone knew the slight bloodlust piglins and their offshoots bore. 

If he could've stayed with Phil, who brought him stories and gave him trinkets from adventures long past, he would've. If he could've stayed with Wilbur, who ran his fingers through his hair and placed in it flowers with meanings he didn't know, he would've. If he could've stayed with Tommy, who was loud and happy and flicked at the gold that hung off his ears in a way that was both the most obnoxious thing, and something he knew he'd miss, he would've. 

But he couldn't, so he left. 

And he didn't return. 

He hoped none of them blamed him, he'd simply gotten distracted. He had so many wins under his belt, and both the voices that had grown louder, and the spectators that loved to watch wanted him to have more. 

He excelled at games and tournaments to the point were contestants would drop out if they saw they were against him (which admittedly wasn't very fun for him, but was pretty funny). 

He had a rivalry with a squid hybrid, who thought he could grow more potatoes than him. 

Sure, maybe the last one was a bit more... stupid... but Squid had challenged _Technoblade_ , and by the Blood God, was Techno going to win. 

(He did). 

And he continued what he was doing, a constant cycle of win tournament, win duel, win game, win challenge, repeat. 

Until his chat and his communicator started yelling. 

The yelling from the communicator was hyperbole, of course, the text not being yelled. 

The chat? They were definitely yelling. Scratch that, they were _screaming_. And Techno left again, to return to the family he'd never forgotten, but simply lost track of. 

By god did he wish he'd returned sooner. 

Here he was, in a ravine, sitting on the ground as Wilbur ran slightly shaky fingers through his hair. He pretended he couldn't feel the tears hit the top of his head. 

Instead, he asked if they'd called Phil. They had. He hadn't come yet. 

After Techno had left, and Wilbur had turned seventeen, Phil had left Tommy with Wilbur. Only for a week, of course, but the week turned into two, with no sign of him. 

And two turned into four faster than either of them liked. 

And four turned into eight faster than either of them expected. 

And eight turned into a hastily scribbled letter finally making it to the door. 

Eventually, the two had left as well, making their way to a server a friend had invited them to. 

They'd made their own government, Wilbur had said, with a glaze in his eyes that Techno didn't like in the slightest. 

They'd fought for it, they'd died for it, and they'd won for it. 

Then, they'd fought for it again. 

And they'd lost. 

So they were in a hole in the ground. A dark, slightly damp ravine, which had a couple buttons in places that didn't power anything. 

He'd watched his brother go insane, drive himself mad by placing more buttons. 

Watched as he only seemed to come back into conscious when he ran very shaky fingers through pink hair, braiding it in fishtails and french braids that crawled up the side of his head. 

There was a lot to work with. 

It fell down to his lower back. 

He didn't mean to ignore his youngest brother, he'd just had a lapse in judgement. 

He'd just thought that if he poured attention onto Wilbur he could stop the inevitable. 

By the end he knew he couldn't. 

So the day before it all went to shit, he sat on the cold, unforgiving stone ground, and let Wilbur braid his hair. 

It was braided and unbraided, set and unset, over and over and over and over until they'd simply run out of time. Until there was dread in Techno's heart as the haze never disappeared from Wil's eyes, and madness in Wilbur's. 

When Phil had finally arrived, and the place had been blown to pieces, he kept his eyes on the place he knew Wilbur had dug himself a room. 

Kept his eyes on the interaction he couldn't hear, but could feel, as his Father drove a sword through the chest of his brother. 

He let the voices take control, so he could cry. 

He came back to in the tundra, unaware of how he got there, but closely followed by a grieving Phil. 

He built a house. 

It was away from the house, kneeling in the snow, when he felt himself break. 

Phil was with him, as he tended to be ever since Wilbur died, and had just rubbed his back, avoiding his hair, as Techno sobbed down at the snow. 

He reached a ringed hand back, and grabbed as much hair as he could, pulling the sword from it's hilt with a loud noise, and bringing it behind his neck, underneath pink follicles, meticulously sharpened edge already snapping some even without movement. 

A swift one took the rest of it off. 

He buried it. 

Like he had done before, Phil helped him with his hair. Helped him make the cut more even. Helped him keep it cut short. 

Phil had been gone for a bit when Tommy had holed himself into Techno's basement. 

He'd taken up his worse raccoon like habits again, stealing Techno's items, hiding them in chests that weren't very well hidden, and shying away from contact, whether it be physical, or simple conversations. 

He'd come back out of his shell after a bit, just as intrigued by the jewelry as before. 

He hadn't mentioned the hair. 

Techno could tell that something was wrong. That something was _incredibly_ wrong. The same way he could tell Tommy didn't like it the first time he'd left his earrings off. 

Something was wrong with how Tommy reacted to, well, everything. 

His confidence was clearly a bravado now, his eyes almost constantly filled with fear. He flinched at movements, shut down at the sound of creepers exploding, ate like he'd have his food taken away if he didn't eat fast enough, and Techno hated it. 

Hated that _something_ had made his brother like this, and especially hated that it was something he didn't know. 

He had an inkling of an idea when he'd mentioned Dream, and Tommy's eyes had glazed over the same way Wilbur's had, though with considerably more terror than rage. 

Then Dream had come around, and had proven him right. 

He'd hid Tommy the moment he saw the flash of bright green across the almost barren white landscape, and had followed the man around as he tore through his house, looking for Tommy. Saying that he needed him back in exile- _exile_. As if he hadn't already been exiled once, and needed to go again. Saying that he'd been watching over Tommy, but that he couldn't find him. 

His brother coming put of the crate with tears flowing down his cheeks the moment he gave the go ahead had proven what he'd hoped wasn't right. 

He'd just hid his claustrophobic brother in a small box, while said brother's abuser had searched the house for him. He didn't let it get to him. 

He hadn't let anything get to him since he'd sliced his hair off. 

That's probably what went wrong. 

He thought it was a fine expedition to the country he'd helped destroy, him and Tommy invisible with potions while neither of them were supposed to be there. 

He'd wanted to check on the dogs. 

Instead, it all went completely wrong for him. 

In hindsight, he should've tried to see it through the lenses of a broken, abused kid. Shouldn't have seen himself as someone who Tommy trusted, not anymore. 

But he hadn't had hindsight in the moment, and took it as betrayal. 

It was, in a sense. It was, from his view. But there were more, that he didn't bother seeing. 

He went home alone, trying to pretend the jewelry weighing down his ears didn't burn. 

He kept it on. 

He let them sway in the wind as he stood above the country that his brothers had died for, that one _was dead_ for, and finished what he had started, dropping endless amounts of dynamite on the country. 

He thought it would be fine. 

He really did. 

Thought that their relationship was strained for now, but could, and would be repaired. 

He stayed in his home in the tundra, and waited for Tommy to come to him. 

He never did. 

He didn't try to go to Tommy. After he, Phil, and Dream had destroyed the country, after he and Phil had made it back home, he'd thought. 

He'd thought about the scared mess that was his brother. Thought about how the betrayal wasn't as much of a betrayal as he thought. Thought about how he absolutely didn't want to see Techno right now. 

Thought that he'd come when he was ready 

He knew that Dream had been locked in the prison, had heard through the grapevine that Tommy was getting very close with Sam, and that the two of which were building a hotel in what remained of L'manberg. 

He'd heard distantly that there was a security breach of sorts at the prison, but that Dream was still in there, so it was fine. 

He'd seen with his own eyes the message that told of his youngest brother's death. 

He hadn't let the voices take control. Not again. Not when last time he'd ended up far from the corpse he wanted to bury. Not when he'd ended up numb for weeks until he finally broke last time. 

He broke immediately this time. 

Ranboo and Phil just watched as he offhandedly checked the communicator on his wrist, neither of which had checked recently. 

Had just watched as he tried to grab hair that wasn't there anymore. As he fell to his knees and stared at the hardwood underneath him. As he dug fingers into short hair and moved them to his ears, grabbing his earrings and _ripping_ , careless of whatever damage he was doing, deaf to the shocked cries from his father. 

He held slightly bloodied jewelry in his hands and sobbed. 

And sobbed.


End file.
